Nothing and No One
by cartersdaughter
Summary: Post 8x23 Sacrifice, Season 8 finale In the church, Dean dealt with the emotional fallout from the last trial and his absence. Now, it was time to deal with the physical fallout. Slightly inspired by Dean's quote toward the end of the episode. Hurt/Sick Sam and Big brother Dean. Let me know if you think this could or should be expanded.
1. After the Church

_It bugged me in the season finale how Sam was punched, bitten, sliced open, and thrown through a window in addition to the whole mess with the trials. And Dean didn't seem to notice. Granted, he was more concerned with Sam's emotional wellbeing than Sam's physical ailments, but I would have liked to see it addressed on the show. So this is my attempt. _

_And please remember, constructive criticism is kind but cruel criticism is just mean._

Leaning against the Impala, Dean watched the sky as the angels fell, lighting up the night like a meteor shower. He pulled his brother against him, one hand on Sam's neck for comfort, his own and Sam's, the other hand splayed across Sam's chest monitoring his little brother's stuttering wheezes and erratic heartbeats.

He continued the calming utterances he had begun in the church, "It's going to be okay, Sammy. I gotcha little brother. Everything's gonna be just fine." Dean smiled slightly as Sam relaxed into him. It meant so much to him that after all the craziness they'd been through and all the crap he'd heaped on Sam earlier his little brother still trusted him. Still had complete faith that big brother could make everything better. Realizing Sam was becoming more limp than relaxed, Dean nudged him causing Sam to let out a hacking cough. "Hey Sammy come on," Dean said pulling Sam's arm back around his neck. "We gotta get you up and outta this mud."

Sam grunted and nodded too exhausted to speak.

"On the count of three," the older Winchester said, once again noticing how pale and sickly his little brother was looking, and not liking it at all. "On three," Dean repeated.

Sam nodded then wheezed, "Not two."

"No Sammy. Three, not two. I promise." Dean could see Sam steeling himself again the pain that was sure to come with rising. The older brother's arm dropped from Sam's neck to snake around to his back and grasp the hand dangling from Dean own neck while the older Winchester's other hand slid behind him to find the door handle. "Okay little brother, ready?" Dean asked because even though he was almost crazy with worry and fear he hadn't gotten there in time Sam was the one hurting.

Again Sam nodded.

"One, two, three," Dean counted off and on three simultaneously lifted Sam into a standing position and yanked the passenger door of the Impala open. "In you go. Jeez Sam. You're heavy, Sasquatch. And you're burnin' up. I think it's time we take you to a hospital. I shoulda took you in the first place after the hotel."

"No h—pital," Sam mumbled. Then stronger he wheezed, "Nothing they can do."

"They may not be able to cure you. But they can at least help treat the symptoms. Like get your fever down so you aren't boiling from the inside out. And get you some oxygen so you don't sound like an asthmatic chain smoker who just ran a marathon.

Sam huffed in annoyance or at least tried to at Dean's description of his condition but ended in a coughing fit.

"Hey. Hey. Hey. Settle down there, Sasquatch," Dean said pressing a hand to Sam's chest not only to steady his brother in the seat but also to keep monitoring his vitals. "Sam, buddy, you need to slow this down." Taking his hand off of his brother's chest as Sam's breathing deepened and slowed down closer to normal, Dean made his way around to the driver's seat almost tempted to hood slide like Bo Duke. Hurrying to get the car started without being too distracted by the falling angels that seemed to be landing closer and closer to the car, Dean placed his hand back in the center of Sam's chest. Then took Sam's hand and placed it in the center of his own. "Breathe, Sammy. Come on, little brother. Just match me." Dean made sure to keep his breathing deep and steady. "You're doin' great Sammy," Dean said as his little brother's breathing lost a bit of its hitch.

"What about Crowley and Kevin?" Sam wheezed.

"Forget about those two. Right now, I'm just concentrating on you." Dean would never admit to Sam or anyone else that he was flat out scared crapless something big was going down with Sam despite the fact Dean had been able to stop him from completing the trials. "Now, shut up and save your breath."

But the younger Winchester had always been one to listen more to requests rather than orders. Plus he was even less likely to listen and obey when he was sick. "Where's Cass?" was his next barely audible question.

Dean had left with Cass and come back into the church alone. And Cass hadn't responded when Dean had called for him few moments ago, and Dean had even used the angel's full name. Cass had routinely ignored Bobby and most of the time ignored Sam. He had never, never ignored Dean. At least not to Sam's knowledge, and for sure not when it had been important. Sam hoped nothing bad had happened to the rogue angel. Especially with what Dean had said were angels falling from the sky.

Because, despite all his shortcomings Cass was a friend and he did try to do the right thing. But Sam dropped the subject for the time being.

"Probably doing somethin' his feathery ass knows he shouldn't," Dean said bitterly thinking of the fallen angels. "Now shut up. Less talking, more breathing," the older Winchester reprimanded noticing his little brother wasn't getting enough air. He emphasized his point with light pressure on Sam's chest.

He halted when Sam hissed in pain.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean said, his foot stepping down harder on the gas. "I know you're hurtin' from the trials. And there's a chunk missing from your arm. But what else is goin' on with you, little brother? And why exactly is there a chunk missing from your arm? Dean's worry had amped up a notch at this new development.

He knew about the cut on Sam's hand from the last part of the trial, the puncture wounds from the needle the younger Winchester had used to dose Crowley. Sam was also having trouble breathing and from past experience with the trials Dean knew he was probably bleeding internally because the bandana covering Sam's hand had blood on the back not just on the palm; he was also burning up like a wood stove in winter. But there were scratches and the beginnings of bruises all over Sam's face and Dean was sure other parts of his little brother's body that had nothing to do with the trials as far as Dean knew. That paired with the fact Crowley had been chained tighter than a convict lead the older Winchester to wonder what had happened in his absence.

"Sam…"Dean prompted.

"You said 'shut up,'" Sam rasped laughing, which turned into a violent cough.

Dean glanced briefly at his little brother to make sure the kid wasn't turning blue. Then without taking his eyes off the road he reached under the seat to pull out a box of Kleenex and drop it in Sam's lap. "That's what you get for being a smartass, Bitch. Now, spill. What the hell happened in that church before I got back? I leave and you're all set to "save" our friendly neighborhood demon King of Hell by dosing him with purified blood. I come back and not only are you glowing, which we are so talking about later, you look like you just went ten rounds with Mike Tyson and lost. And there is a piece of your arm missing."

Dean figured his rant had given his little brother enough time to catch his breath. "So…explain."

Sam took a deep breath, well as deep as he could, given the circumstances. He knew the big brother in Dean would come out and want to kill something as soon as he started.

The older Winchester already knew something was up. The hiss of pain Sam had let slip through when Dean had pressed on his chest had been a dead giveaway.

Sam decided to keep his explanation short, not only to save his air but also Dean's anger. "Crowley bit me. Abbaddon, window."

"Crowley did what?" Dean's rage was barely contained. "That son of bitch. I know I said I wouldn't, but I'm gonna kill him. Why'd he bite you?"

"No idea," Sam said shaking his wobbly head. Right now he was in too much pain to think of a reason.

Dean was so distracted by the idea of the partially cured demon literally sinking his teeth into Sam that it had it took him a few seconds after to comprehend the second thing his little brother had said about Abbaddon. "Abbaddon window?" Realization dawned, "She threw you through a window. Sam answer me. Is it true?"

Sam nodded. He was too out of breath to do anything else.

"That bitch. I'm going to exorcise her then salt and burn the body."

The younger Winchester didn't know why Dean was freaking out so badly. Sam had gotten back up after the incident and continued the trials up until his big brother had come in and stopped him. So he had a few cuts and bruises and mostly likely a minor concussion and some bruised ribs. No big deal. They both had had far worse on countless hunts. "I'm fine," he reassured.

"No, little brother, you are not fine. You are so far out of the vicinity of fine; you're not even in the same time zone. I'm not so sure you know what that word means anymore. Besides the stuff I can see and the crap caused by the trials that I already know about, I'm sure there's stuff you're hiding. Like the fact, you probably have bruised if not broken ribs, which can't be good with you already coughing up blood, and I'm almost positive you have a concussion. And I'm sure there's most likely more stuff neither one of us know about. I know I said, 'you have to let me take care of you', Sammy, but I'm throwing in the towel. This is way out of my league. This one we leave to the professionals."

As much as Sam wanted to protest, he knew this time Dean was right, which his big brother would love to hear. While the doctors wouldn't be able to determine a cause for Sam's mysterious illness, they would be able to treat the symptoms: the fever, the trouble breathing. They would also be able to clean and properly assess Sam's other injuries: the cut, the puncture wounds, the bite, the probable broken ribs and concussion.

Though, the brothers would have to come up with a pretty good but believable back story to stop Sam from being committed. That last thing they needed was Sam spending quality time in the psych ward for attempted suicide. But he could definitely use the assistance of the good drugs. Not to mention real bandages in place of bandanas, who knows what kind of germs were hiding in there waiting to give Sam an infection to ravage his already weakened immune system.

It was almost physically painful for Dean to watch his little brother struggle to breathe and get comfortable in the car. He wanted nothing more than to absorb all the hurt and burden that came with these trials. In the meantime, he would do the one thing he could do. Get help and find someone who would take away some of the pain and the damage.

Sam was the most important thing in his life. Nothing and no one came before, which right now translated into getting little brother to a hospital. Like Dean had said in the church, "There was nothing past or present he would put in front of Sam". Now that his little brother was well aware of the fact, Dean would do everything in his power to make sure Sam came first. Anything and everything else could wait.


	2. The Impala

_This is a re-post since fanfic decided to chunks out of my document. So this was originally intended to be a one shot. Then I got a lot of feedback from people saying they wished there was more to it. And I got bored at work, so…_

Chapter 2

Sam leaned back against the seat letting his eyes drift close and the steady motion and quiet growl of the Impala sooth him into a light doze.

"Uh-uh, no sleeping. Pretty sure you've got yourself a concussion. Plus it'll be easier for you to breathe if you're concentrating." Dean had no idea if this last statement was true, but it sounded pretty good.

Sam's eyes which had popped open when Dean had shaken him awake, both physically and verbally, now drifted shut once more.

"Sammy. Come on. Open those eyes. Sam!" Dean barked when his gentle cajoling didn't work.

Sam startled easily, his breath catching in his throat leading to a coughing spell, bright red staining his fingers as he gasped like a landed fish.

"Sorry little brother," Dean apologized, his voice filled with guilt knowing he had hurt Sam on purpose, but happy his tactic had worked. He extended the Kleenex box that rested on the seat between them as a peace offering. "But you need to stay awake."

Sam grabbed the box and rested it in his lap, pulling out a handful of Kleenex as he did so. "'m 'wake. And 'm fine, Dean," he muttered. The words even more muffled by the Kleenex.

"Sure ya are. Come here," the older Winchester said pulling his little brother closer, so they were sitting much as they had been in the cold mud outside the church, Sam resting against Dean's shoulder.

Attempting to keep himself awake and lucid, Sam hummed along to the Metallica tape his older brother had playing in the background.

"Hey dude, are you humming Metallica?" Dean didn't take his eyes off the road, but as he brushed his fingers through Sam's hair, he felt his brother's nod against his shoulder.

"It calms me down," came the whispered response.

Dean smiled remember when Sam had asked him a similar question, and he had given the same response. He didn't dare say anything else, not wanting to take away his little brother's method of keeping himself coherent. Plus with the added worry of a probable concussion, it was good Sam had found something to focus on besides the pain raging through his body like a wildfire. The older Winchester was actually surprised Sam had kept it together this long. From the intense reaction he had to stopping the trial, Dean had expected him to pass out the minute the car had started. But was extremely thankful he hadn't.

Especially since, apparently Castiel was otherwise occupied. Sometimes Dean wanted to smack the angel silly, in spite of the fact he was a celestial being who could probably vaporize the older Winchester if he wanted to. The angel always seemed to think he was doing the right thing even when logic and past experience told him different.

Choosing not to dwell on his wayward friend, Dean instead turned his attention to his ailing brother. Sam had moved slightly away from his big brother's shoulder and now leaned his head back against the seat. Knowing his little brother, this was most likely an attempt to help his breathing and quell the dizziness from the concussion at the same time.

Though Sam had admitted he was hurting, which in itself was huge hurdle, he would never knowingly ask for help unless he thought he was dying. Even then, he would try to solve his problem alone before thinking of coming to Dean.

"You doing okay there, little brother?"

Sam lay back thinking over how he wanted to answer, but not wanting to take too long because his big brother would get so worried he would pull the car over on the spot and probably call an ambulance. So Sam had to decide what took precedence at the moment his head or his breathing. He barely cracked an eye open to glance at his big brother, and the world spun. Nevertheless, he peered through lidded eyes. "Said 'm fine," Sam continued to take monitored breaths as though he was taking air in through a straw.

Dean knew Sam was lying through his teeth. And that it was in an attempt to make Dean feel better about their current situation.

He could also tell by the way his little brother refused to open his eyes that his head was bothering him almost as much as his lungs. A problem most likely caused by a combination of: dehydration, blood loss, concussion, lack of food and sleep, not to mention Sam's insistence he was fine and hunting until he ran himself into the ground. "No, Sam. You're not fine, and it's about time you admit it!" Dean suddenly burst out, surprising himself and startling his brother.

The brothers had been taught as long as you deny pain: physical, mental, or emotional, it didn't exist. They had been pushing through the three trials just like any other hunt. Follow the directions, gank the monster, save the day. But just because they'd been treating it like any other hunt, didn't make it one. **They were trying to close the gates of hell**. And Sam stood out like a neon sign flashing everything that could go wrong with the attempt.

Dean could see the evidence the trials on his brother's pale, sunken, sweat-soaked face. Feel it in the way Sam trembled against him and in the heat radiating from the burning body. But the older Winchester hoped this rabid inferno wouldn't trigger any flashbacks to hell.

Just because Castiel had said he fixed everything regarding Sam's melon and its tendency to broadcast hell and Lucifer in high definition, didn't mean it had stayed fixed.

But Dean was bound and determined he would fix this.

It was his job to look out for his pain in the ass little brother. It didn't matter that Sam wasn't a kid anymore and was more than capable of looking out for himself, as he had proven time and time again. Taking care of Sam was part of who Dean was and that wasn't about to change. Getting Sam better was his number one priority. It didn't matter that the world was about to almost end again; Sam came first. "You almost died, Sam. Heck, you still could still be dying for all we know. Cass said you were so damaged he couldn't heal you, and Naomi said the same thing."

"Then what's the point of a hospital?" Sam asked having regained a little bit of his breath listening to Dean, though his head stayed firmly planted partially on the seat and partly on his brother's shoulder. "If the angels can't…no one can. What's the point?" Sam heaved a sigh, exhaustion catching up with him once more. "Why even try?"

"Because I can't lose you again! That's why!" Dean's emotions finally got the better of him. He had been trying to hold it in since their explosive heart to heart at the church. There, he had instigated the ultimate chick flick moment in an effort to convince Sam to stop the trial. If he had to initiate another one to convince his little brother to willingly go to the hospital, so be it. "I've been down this road too many times Sammy. I'm not doing it again. So if getting you hopped up on the good stuff and other drugs buys me some more time to figure out how to get you better, we're going to do it. Because there ain't no me, if there ain't no you," Dean said bringing an end to the conversation, eyes scanning the highway for the familiar H on a blue and white background.


End file.
